


Carmen Meum - My Song

by wcdarling



Series: Carmina [5]
Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: M/M, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Romance, Vampire Sex, Vampires, ancient vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 12:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16493072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wcdarling/pseuds/wcdarling
Summary: Formosus says, "No more letting someone else tell my story! These are my words!" FINAL story in the series.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fourth story in the long Carmina* series and is centered around a "The Vampires Take Manhattan" theme. Initially it's Marius and Formosus doing the town together, but then they are joined by a friend.
> 
> *[Carmina](http://archiveofourown.org/series/491026)  
> This series of stories -- the first real fan fiction I ever really attempted, in about 2000 -- focuses on Marius and a new male character of my invention. The main focus of this story is the notion of vampires' relationships to the times in which they lived as mortals and their relationship to the centuries as they pass. Includes historical fiction, romance, poetry, and light slash. Most of the action takes place post-TVA but certain aspects of that story are ignored. 
> 
> My creative inspiration in writing these stories came from several sources: 1) Pandora, a lovely and underrated novel, 2) the poems of Horace, who lived during Marius' mortal lifetime, 3) the film Gladiator (as historically inaccurate as it is); 3) and study of Roman history. And though there is MUCH historic and literary inaccuracy in this I am sure, well, sorry, I was having fun.
> 
> I confess I was on the fence about even sharing this series on AO3 it's rather embarrassing to me now (OMG, is it ever!!!!) but yeah... 
> 
> Spoilers  
> Virtually none, but action takes place post-Armand. I definitely recommend reading the [Carmina series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/491026) in order. 
> 
> Categories  
> Drama, Romance, Vampire Fiction
> 
> Rating  
> PG to R  
> Also, OC is a teenager in appearance ONLY.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Formosus picks up where the old narrator left off. Meanwhile some excitement is brewing.

Allow me to introduce myself. I am the vampire Formosus. Forgive me for employing that phrase -  _the vampire Formosus_  - but it seems that reading my friend Lestat's memoirs has had some effect on my writing style, good or bad I am not yet certain.

In any case, I am Formosus, the very same vampire you may have read about through a series of four stories. Those tales, presented in the third-person omniscient voice of a mysterious narrator, proved just barely adequate at presenting some of the drama, pathos and rapid learning of my first few week after appearing to Marius in the city of New Orleans. Feeling that taking matters into my own hands might prove a more successful manner of seeing my story told, I have taken pen to paper.

First off, before I begin, let me affirm that all the details of those earlier accounts are true. I was a Roman slave boy, I was a poet, I buried myself in my master's villa in the year 1000, I slept through an entire millennium, and then I awoke and ran to New Orleans to begin my second life. That is the story in sum; for details read the earlier stories, because I am through with those details and would like to move on to my life here, now, in the present.

It has by now been more than a year since I first arrived at Marius' villa, singing an ancient song in the shadows of the oak trees. A month after my arrival I was nearly killed by the explosion of a gas tanker truck but was saved by the loving actions of Marius, Lestat, Armand and Louis. Since then I have grown to know all of them exceedingly well, or should I say,  _intimately_. I have also taken the time to read what seems like every poem written since the time I went to ground and many earlier ones besides. I have even composed several books' worth of poetry, not for publication, only for myself - and Marius, of course, for who else would appreciate authentic Latin poetry?

It is, after all, Marius who I love most of all. He is my friend, my lover, my teacher, my guide, my audience, my  _everything_. He is the fabric that clothes my soul. He is the air I breathe. To him I provide my arts, my company, my loyalty, and most of all, my love. Everyone - Armand and Pandora especially - is delighted to see an end to Marius' loneliness. I am happy to oblige.

Meanwhile I am still grappling with the changes wrought on the world in the past millennium. By now I am able to function in the modern world with at least a superficial understanding of its workings. I am able to buy things at a cash register, place phone calls, and, in what I have been informed is an especially remarkable bit of achievement, set a video cassette recorder to record programs during the daylight hours. Many cultural references are still beyond my grasp, but not long ago I surprised even myself by actually understanding one of the jokes on "The Simpsons," a program prescribed to me by Lestat, who insisted it would "expand my understanding of American life." I actually laughed!

What I  _think_  of the modern world is, of course, another matter entirely, but I will say here that there are aspects of it I enjoy immensely and could not now do without - and aspects which frighten and torment me no end. As I said to Louis once, the Dark Ages were not entirely dark, and in these days of massive destruction, cultural degradation and takeover via machine, there is still much that is good and noble in the human race and the progress of the world.

Outside of that, I have spent considerable energies improving my English. Difficult as it is for me to successfully wield its mishmash of Latin, French and German, I have been told that I am now fluent. I am pleased to say, however, that I am probably the only person on the planet with a Latin accent. Marius managed to lose his and speaks perfectly in dozens of different languages, but I am content to speak in a matter just distinctive enough that from time to time I am asked, "Excuse me, but where are you from? I can't quite place your accent." If they only knew!

In addition to English I have been able to master French, Italian, Spanish, and German. Louis tutored me in the first, Armand and Marius in the second, and the world in the third and the fourth. Spanish was not at all difficult but I cannot believe I have mastered German, it is so perfectly barbaric. The main reason I decided to learn it is that I kept discovering poetry that I was sure would be better in the original and naturally enough, it was. I am glad to see my mind is still capable of learning new things.

Oh, and while we are on the topic of new things, I will have you know that when I wrote earlier that "I have taken pen to paper" I mean it absolutely literally. Lestat's protests to the contrary, no matter the benefits of the keyboard or computer, in the past I was able to transcribe an entire copy of the  _Aeniad_  by hand, and I do not see why I cannot "stick with what works." At any rate, I am sure someone will "type it in" for me at some later date, which to me is an acceptable compromise. All I want is to document my life and world through my own words - the final presentation does not concern me.

* * *

As I write this, I sit in Marius' study on the first floor of his residence here in New Orleans. It is perhaps 11 p.m. and Marius and I have already completed our evening rituals: He reads the newspapers and watches the news while I go through a new book and exactly one news article. Marius would like me to keep up with current events more than I do but honestly I have little interest in reading about modern life. I would rather encounter it on my own, face to face. However, to oblige him, I accept one article recommendation per evening and read it - once I have finished with whatever book I have started on.

Tonight's article was a magazine feature report on the issue of infanticide. Apparently, several reporters visited countries where infants are killed after birth, either because they are female or because of other real or perceived defects. Of course poverty also plays a role, as another child is another mouth to feed. In Roman times "exposure" was a not uncommon means of disposing of unwanted children. It was not any more pleasant or genteel than it is today, but the pressures were often the same.

It is striking to me that amidst all the incredible riches of this world there are whole billions of people living the same type of short-lived, dangerous way of life that once encompassed almost the whole of the world. I do not question the billions but instead the millions - the wealthy - who might have the means to alleviate this situation if they so chose. But of course they do not, just as by and large, no one ever has. As Marius has drilled into my head "The more things change, the more they stay the same." (I do not know who originated that quote, but it strikes me as an admirable maxim.)

In any case, for the moment I am writing. How low this moment will last I am not certain as we are expecting a guest this evening. By "we" I mean not only Marius and I but the whole coven of vampires living here in New Orleans: Marius, myself, Lestat, and Louis. Pandora is out roaming the world while Armand, Sybelle, and Benji are off in Europe, visiting Italy and France, I believe. If they were in town I am sure they would be here to welcome our guest as well.

Who is this visitor, you ask? Lestat's powerful fledgling David Talbot. His is a beautiful name, at least in my opinion, and I have heard he is beautiful in body as well, although that body is not that in which he was born. David has been away on his own since even before I arrived in this city, perhaps even before I rose from the tomb.

I am sure Lestat would have liked him to be with us, but at the same time, I believe we all recognize that every new vampire must have time to see the world on his own with his vampire eyes. David's absence has not been without its benefits, however, as otherwise I would imagine Lestat could find himself in quite a tangle with two beloved fledglings in the house. Or so I imagine. What I really know of maker-fledgling relationships is almost nothing, although I am endeavoring to learn.

David should be arriving shortly. Apparently he sent Louis and Lestat some sort of electronic message to the effect that he would arrive before midnight tonight. He is "flying in" from Hong Kong, or so I am told. It strikes me as marvelous that it is now possible for people to send messages from such long distances in an instant. When I was a boy the Roman road and courier system was efficient enough that a message could cross the continent in four days, but in general no one but the military and the government had the need or money for such messages. Nowadays everything is so easily accessible. Too incredible. And so, warned in advanced from half a world away, Louis and Lestat are over at their townhouse making their preparations. They insisted on bringing him here as soon as possible to meet me.

I am very content with my place here. At times I regret the total isolation I once established between myself and the vampire world. I have been told that in the past, things were never like this and there was no peace, no great community of friends, and of course there were the dark covens and so many wicked ones. Still, I wish that I had not had to wait so very long to discover this kind of love, this sharing, this wondrous sense of belonging. Even more, I wish that I had known of the tenderness, the devotion possible between maker and fledgling. If I had, perhaps my choices in life would have been different.

But I must put down this pen. The anticipation of David's arrival is distracting me. I will continue this writing when I can and provide more thoughts and, of course, an update on the situation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guests arrive and there is some merciless teasing instigated by one blond-haired prince.

An hour and half until dawn and I do not know what to make of this past evening. David did, in fact, arrive shortly after I put down my pen. I had gone to the living room to watch Marius complete a painting he is working on when instantly we both realized that our guests had arrived. The silent power of approaching preternatural blood was impossible to miss. Marius put down his brushes and moved the easel and canvas off to the side to make room.

Through the open French doors stepped three strikingly handsome devils, two familiar, one unfamiliar. David. Having seen it through Lestat's mind on more than one occasion, his body was just what imagined, only more so. To have fallen into possession of such a body! I took him in, noticing that beneath a layer of outward clam, he appeared a bit nervous. Was he afraid of me?

"Well, here we are!" Lestat burst out. Putting his hands on David's broad shoulders and applying slight forward pressure, he began his introductions. "Formosus, this is David. David," he said, stepping away to wrap his arms around my shoulders instead, "this is Formosus."

"Pleased to meet you," David replied, stepping forward and offering his hand. How very polite.

I reached out and clasped his hand in greeting. "I am delighted to meet you," I said in my very best English. "I am sorry we could not meet earlier but I suppose it is for the best. Traveling is vital to a young vampire."

David nodded. "Yes, I feel much better now. Much more in tune with myself, the world. I have answered some of my questions, fulfilled some of my longings."

"Oh? And what longings might those be?" Lestat cut in, stepping out from behind me to point his finger mischievously at his fledgling. "Would that include any longings that Formosus here could help you out with?"

"Lestat!" Louis shouted. "Stop that. Not everyone is as libidinous as you are."

"Oh really? Even you? Judging from how many nights a week you come over here, I would think you would have me beat. And certainly Marius gets more satisfaction than either of us."

There were no words from Marius at this remark, not even a raised eyebrow. Only a gloating grin. He was not about to complain on that account.

David appeared somewhat mystified. "Forgive me, perhaps there is something I was not told but… are you saying that you have all been conducting some sort of relations…"

"Yes, David, you are such a clever investigator!" Lestat teased, grinning at his joke. "Almost psychic, you are!" He laughed and went on. "David, Formosus has introduced new element of pleasure into our lives. Well, mostly to Marius' life, but I can't say I haven't received some benefit as well."

"And what about the others?" David asked suddenly.

Lestat laughed. "That depends on what you mean by 'others.'"

David paused for a moment, thinking, "Well, for example, Armand?"

Lestat looked to Louis, who in turn looked to Marius, who in turn looked to me. I nodded coyly.

Now it was Lestat's turn to be surprised, although how he could have been unaware of this I do not know. "Really?" he asked. " _Armand?_  You and he, you two adolescent…" He paused as his face sprouted one of its notorious grins. "Marius, I believe you are growing positively charitable these days. How could you let that go on? Your two best -"

Marius cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I trust him, Lestat. End of discussion."

There was an awkward pause. "So…." David sighed. "Where we? Introductions are complete I believe. Now we will…"

"Chat!" Lestat cried, motioning to the comfortable couches and chairs of the living room. "We are all friends here. Let's catch up! And, David, just maybe you will catch even more!"

As I write this, I am recording word for word what was said but I still do not understand the exact meaning behind "catch up" and "catch even more" but I suppose given the context and Lestat's nature, I can guess.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Formosus takes a moment to defend his love life.

At this juncture, before I go on and describe our little evening with David and the turn of events there, let me pause for a moment to clarify something about myself. I am not, as some might label me, a "slut." That term, as I understand it, has negative connotations, one being that I will share myself with anyone and another being that I am forcing other people to be unfaithful. I do not qualify on either count.

No, I am much happier with being labeled a courtesan, which is much more appropriate because it shows me for what I truly am: one who provides pleasure, not one who demands it. This is not to say that I do not receive service from those I love, but that I do not  _press_  myself or make demands. I allow  _them_  to draw me to  _them_ , crook  _their_  little finger, so to speak. I am passive until I receive the signal. And once I have the signal, then… there is no going back. As if there would be any desire to!

As for my choices in partners, I truly would not go with just anyone, but in my present situation almost every option is a good one. Marius is certainly my favorite. Maybe I see him as my old master, maybe it is the fact that his thoughts slip back into the old tongue when we make love, or maybe it simply his gorgeous body, divided from passion for so many centuries. Probably it is all of those things, but mostly it is because I love him. Is not even sugar sweeter when it comes from the one you love? It is with Marius that I have shared the most.

Louis has also been wonderful. He has taken me to art galleries around the world to show me what I missed while I was underground. Together we have read poetry and he has put me on a lovely program of reading, giving me books to instruct me on modern man, the modern world, and then books about the past, history books, old novels, poetry from centuries past that I somehow have missed in my own reading. So attentive, my Louis.

As for the passion between us, it is strong, but Lestat was in error when he implied that he and I exchange intimacies  _every_  time we meet. We do not… at least not, as I said,  _every_  time we meet. We wait for the moment, we do not live for that moment alone. We do not force anything. When it finally comes, it is a treasure.

Lestat is another story. He does not wait for sparks to kindle, he makes them ignite! I mind not at all, but his aggression is quite considerable. I think he enjoys the safety in the fact that I am powerful enough to withstand some of his rougher tendencies and also to go places and do things that Louis simply cannot. Lestat taught me to fly into the clouds.

On the ground he is the one who has probably taught me the most about modern life. Unlike Louis, he watches a great deal of television and pays attention to popular music. Lestat loves to go shopping with me and no matter what city we are in, he always knows the clubs and bars and restaurants where we can slip in among the most succulent mortals.

Often he laughs in these moments, saying he cannot imagine that Louis would approve, while meanwhile I am thinking that knowing Louis the way I do, there is a distinct possibility that Lestat is wrong and Louis would very much enjoy what we are doing. Of course I keep this to myself and simply take Louis to these places on my own afterward to test out my theory. I have been pleased to find I was correct.

And finally there is Armand. Although I had proposed something to him only a few days after arriving - he appeared to be jealous of all the action going on until I called him on his bluff - subsequently he withdrew and we did not spend very much time together. He was leaving me to Marius, I am sure. Finally one night he came to me in quite a happy mood.

Ever since Armand and his children had come to live in the house, he and Marius had of course been spending time together alone, getting to know the people they had become over the centuries. They had essentially formed a new relationship. However, as Armand explained to me, until that night Marius had never touched him. The desire had been there, he was sure, but Marius had been trying to be careful, to restrain himself for fear of bringing up painful memories. But finally the touch had come and with that, he felt a sense of completion, a sense that he could move on without any lingering worries. I was next on his list, so to speak.

Armand and I are of an age, physically speaking if not in fact, but of course we are very different people. He fell in with the crowds of Satan-worshippers from which I shrank in the Dark Ages. He has, in the past, been capable of horrible cruelty. He has suffered horrible cruelty. His experience of religion is absolutely alien to me. Still, we have much in common. We were both kidnapped as mortal boys. Both of us were made into vampires early in our lives, our bodies frozen at the cusp of adulthood. Both of us served masters who painted us. Armand can even sing a pretty tune; he still remembers them from the 1400s.

As I meant to say when I began this side discussion, however, Armand and I have shared some wonderful times together. I have gotten him back in touch with his more sensual side. He has remembered things he learned as a mortal, sweet tricks of the body, and we have had a friendly competition to see which of us is more skilled. The battle is still on.

But let me end this dissection. This bit of autobiography is becoming what I believe is referred to as "trashy." No need to go on at such length! Perhaps if something happens in the next few days, then I can describe it. But everything in the past year? No, that is not possible. And meanwhile, I still have to describe what happened once David arrived.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David has been doing some snooping about in an unlikely place. Just what did he find?

Although at first showing some signs of his initial nervousness, David quickly relaxed, obviously glad to be back among friends after months by himself. He and Lestat were on a couch together and they had wrapped their arms around one another. Louis sat in a chair close by, not completely out of the picture, but obviously giving the two space. Marius and had both taken position lying back on chaise lounges, propped up on our arms.

David had traveled a great deal, he explained, but he had also taken the time for a few extended visits. Once again he had visited South America and roamed the jungles - as always, he enjoyed the thrill. He had visited India, soared among the Himalayas, explored St. Petersburg, wandered the various corners of Africa. He had spent a few weeks in Berlin, pretending to be one of the angels in Wim Wenders'  _Der Himmel Über Berlin_.

"Have you had a chance to see that film, Formosus?" David asked me. It was first time he had spoken to me directly aside from saying "Please to meet you." I nodded. "Good. You have been seeing films then?"

"Yes, every now and then," I replied. The entire notion of film, television, video, radio, CDs and all other recorded media was one with which I have become more familiar over the past year, but I still consider it alien territory. In the case of _Der Himmel Über Berlin_  --  _Wings of Desire_  in English, I belive -- it was actually Louis who insisted I see it, as it is one of his favorite films.

"Formosus is a bit of a scholar," Lestat broke in. "He prefers books."

"I can understand that," said David. "I was a scholar myself once."

"Once?" Lestat cried. "Oh, David, surely you aren't trying to fool us into thinking you still don't poke around in libraries and secret vaults?" David glanced down, looking somewhat guilty. "So where did you go this time?"

"You may not believe this," David said slowly, "but I managed to slip into the Vatican."

Lestat's cheery demeanor vanished. "The Vatican." At first I did not realize why he had become so somber. "You were not looking for the -"

"Veil?" David broke in.

"Yes," said Lestat slowly. "That."

"No, Lestat, I think it is wise for us to leave that alone. No, I was going through the famous libraries as well as the not-so-famous libraries. Secret libraries."

Lestat turned sideways to face David. "Oooohhh, tell me then, what did you find?"

"And what were you looking for?" asked Marius, slipping into the conversation.

"I was - and, Lestat, don't give me a ribbing over this - looking for the answers to a few questions I had. First, I wanted to know if the Vatican had materials or records corresponding to those at the Talamasca. Second -"

"Oh, God, David, can't you leave that -"

David gave Lestat a light slap on the arm. "Quiet yourself. As I was saying, second, I wanted to see what sort of records they might have referring to us, to vampires."

"I see," Lestat said, rolling his eyes. "And what did you find? Medieval texts on the destruction of vampires? Wooden stakes?"

David was looking exasperated. "No! Oh, Lestat, I know you hate anything having to do with scholarly investigation, but will you please shush?" There was no sign from Lestat that he agreed on this point, but David went on. "In fact I did come across some rather interesting tidbits."

"Like what?" Louis asked softly.

"Like the fact that the Vatican has endured several episodes of vampires breaking in and reducing the holy ranks."

"Vampires in the Vatican?" Lestat spat out, practically laughing. "Oh, but that would be a terrible title for a novel…"

"Yes, it would be," David agreed, "but that was not my point. My point was that , according to the records I found, apparently - and this is what was presumed, based on evidence - several vampires have actually gone to the Vatican to feed and, I suppose, commit the ultimate act of sacrilege." He eyed Lestat suspiciously. "It wasn't you, was it?"

"No, David. And remember, it was I who committed the ultimate sacrilege: I drank the blood of Christ himself." Lestat's mood had taken a sharp turn. He still does not talk much about this "adventure" of his; it invokes too many painful memories for himself and others

"I knew I shouldn't have brought this up," David sighed sympathetically. "Sorry. Now, as I was saying to all of you, that was one interesting discovery. The other was one I made on my own. I was following up on something I had thought about when I was still Superior General. I was wondering about the objects vampires have left behind. Things like your painting, 'Temptation of Amadeo,' Marius. Claudia's locket. All those deeds for Lestat's property in Paris and New Orleans."

"Yes?" Marius asked, somewhat testily. "All those pieces of evidence against us?"

"Oh, Marius, don't tell me you are still angry about that? That was my job, that was my life. Now I'm on the other side, and I will not go back. But I had a lingering curiosity, and it had to do with these relics. I was thinking about manuscripts."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David shares the tale of a mysterious monk.

At the mention of manuscripts my heart immediately quickened. I had learned through earlier research that several examples of my works, both my poems and my monastic pieces, were held by the Vatican. I did not, however, interrupt David to inform him on this point. I decided I wanted to see where his story was leading.

"My thought had been," David continued, "that given the atmosphere of Europe in the Middle Ages - and forgive me, Marius, I wasn't there, so this is going on what I've learned - when the real keepers of literature, of science, of philosophy and writing were the monks and the priests, and given the manner in which individual monks would sometimes conduct their own investigations and explorations of various topics, and given that there are some fairly wild examples of illumination out there -"

"Wynken de Wilde comes to mind…" Lestat interrupted.

"Yes, he does, Lestat, absolutely. Well, my point is, given these circumstances, it would not be surprising to me if somehow in the texts of these monasteries were records of vampires or, and this was the topic of my recent quest, texts that were actually written by vampires."

Marius and I exchanged glances. "What did you find?" I asked, still not ready to offer what I knew.

"As I said, this was an idea that I first had when I was with the Talamasca. There could be manuscripts out there written by vampires. Vampires would have been very talented. And vampires need not have believed in the religious doctrine of the church in order to have done the work because not all works were of a religious nature."

"That is certainly true." I offered.

David gave me a look. "Why, what do you know about this?"

I looked to Marius, then Lestat, then Louis. I wanted to duck my head. "Oh, nothing."

David would have none of this. "Don't 'Oh, nothing!' me. What do you know?"

"Well, let me say, since you obviously are not aware of this, that I spent quite a lot of time in scriptoria towards the end of the first millennium."

David's mouth suddenly went agape. Quickly he clamped it shut, but obviously he had just experienced some sort of revelation. For a moment he was speechless.

"What is it, David?" Lestat asked, shaking his fledgling by the shoulders.

"It's… quite a coincidence then," he said quietly.

"What is?" Lestat prodded.

"That in the course of my research, I found the writings of a seventeenth century Vatican scholar who, in going through the records of several monasteries found, in the very rare pieces from the Dark Ages, as well as the copies made in later times, a notable series of connections… connections that should have been there.

"He found, in the collections of several different monasteries, a variety of works which seemed to have been created by a single individual. These were stunning illuminated manuscripts, similar to a few pieces in the collection but notable for their original motifs and their level of detail. These manuscripts were well known and the works had even been translated over the centuries but not much was known about the works themselves.

"The notations he found and some of the original copies he found, showed that all works came with essentially the same dedication, written in Latin, which I will translate here: 'A gift to [monastery's name], towards the preservation of history and art, in the year [and the year]'"

By now I knew what he meant by… coincidence. "Go on," I said slowly.

David glanced up at me and made a broad gesture to the others. "As I said, these works were from various different monasteries, which was unusual because not only were these monasteries geographically disbursed and operated by different orders, but, and here in the key, these texts were written over a time frame of over 200 years. To top it all, as the seventeenth century scholar discovered, the handwriting on all the extent copies was identical and the dedications were all written in a matching hand."

Marius gave me a look and swung his eyes again towards David. Was I going to tell him? I shook my head ever so slightly, signally to him. No, not yet.

"What did the scholar give as the explanation for this phenomenon?" Louis asked, obviously going along with the game.

"He concluded that somewhere or other there had been either a family or a small cult of monks who had, over the course of 200 years, devoted themselves to the preservation of ancient texts. All the scribes had written in the same handwriting because it had been strictly passed down through the succeeding generations. This group had backing from a family of great wealth, able to distribute the copies to the various monasteries over the decades. That was his explanation, at any rate."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David is finally let in on the joke and the evening ends on a friendly note.

"I have a final question for you," I asked. "These works… was there any name associated with them? Or were they anonymous?"

David made a gesture with his hand, obviously excited. "Ah, that's where I made my discovery! Although there was apparently no name attached directly to the work, the seventeenth century scholar was able to find two examples and then several additional references to hidden identification within the texts, in the illustration. As I said, the illustration was exceedingly intricate and it was only through months of research that he was able to read all the hidden letters and codes. However, at last the scholar was able to determine the name of the author." He paused, looking around to each of us. "And now, although I hate to sound like a character in a mystery novel, I must now ask... Who was it?"

"F. de Maracalas," I replied.

David grinned. "Yes. And tell me… do you know anything about this?"

"Too much, far too much," I laughed. "Oh, I give up, David, no use teasing you further. I wrote them. I cannot believe you found them! I cannot believe a Vatican scholar deduced out my scheme." I shook my head. "I hope my texts were at least useful."

"Actually, they were very useful," David said quickly. "In every case, the works which were provided via this 'F. de Maracalas' were the only surviving or referenced versions. So if you had not done your work, they would have been lost forever."

I smiled, wiping away the blood tears that had suddenly formed in my eyes. "That is quite ironic, no?"

"What?" David asked, quizzically.

"That I managed to make pieces of literature immortal. Never managed it with any people… although now that I think about it… the only time I ever even though about it, it was with a monk."

Marius went rigid. There were no words or thoughts, but I felt his silent accusation, that I had not told him the whole truth - that this was something I had said I had refused to do. Had I lied to him?

"I  _did_  refuse, Marius, in the end, I did. I never said I was not tempted. I was in love, truly I was, and yet I could not do it, no matter how much I loved him or how very tempting monks could be…"

Lestat laughed. "Oooh, watch yourself, Formosus, you may start to offend Louis if you go on like that. Such sacrilege!"

"Lestat, Lestat… you push Louis' buttons far too often. All I was saying was that it was strange that I had managed to bring literature through time even though I left few other traces."

"What about your poems?" Marius asked.

Lestat quickened and turned back to David. "Yes, David, what about them? You didn't find any poems by Lucius Socius Cordatus at the Vatican, did you?"

"Funny you should ask. In fact, I did find some. Not all of them… but in one book by… F. Formosus… in the back, I found a scrap from another book, a book of ancient Roman poetry, the kind that was forbidden for being too…too…"

"Oh, you need not explain to me…" I sighed. "I am very familiar with that author. In fact I actually remember at one point trying to save one of his surviving manuscripts by tucking it in the back of my illuminated pieces. After all, the pieces do belong together, written as they are by the  _same author_..."

Now David was truly incredulous. "You mean…?" He looked around. Obviously we knew something he didn't. "You mean… you're Lucius Socius Cordatus?"

Marius burst out laughing. "Lestat, did you tell David nothing?"

Lestat shook his head, lost in a giggling fit. "I… I thought I had, but I believe I missed a few details."

"More than a few," David said, rising from his place on the couch. "Well," he said to me. "Now I feel I have met a famous author. Or two" He extended his hand to me and there was an extended handshake. "But I believe I have lingered here long enough. Lestat, I was wondering if you were up for some clothes shopping."

"Always," Lestat replied. "Louis, you may do what you like for the remainder of the evening."

"Always," Louis said, a smile on his lips.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Formosus reflects on a love lost long, long ago.

After a round of embraces, Louis, Lestat and David headed out into the night. Standing at the French doors watching them go, I again enjoyed the sweet sense of family this household provides.

"So what do you think of David?" Marius asked.

"I think he is quite a scholar," I replied.

"And this monk you spoke of?" The question was gentle.

"He was quite a scholar as well." There was a catch in my throat. I had not allowed myself to think of that old hurt in month - actually since my visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art - and despite all my talking, I had never spoken of him to anyone… before tonight.

Marius was trying to work things out at well. He asked me, "How did he die, this mortal lover of yours?"

I sighed. "Old age, Marius, old age." Mind to mind, I showed Marius my vision of this man, grown old in his stone cell, the altar at which he knelt in prayer, the table where he copied manuscripts.

"I was with him, knew him, for a few years." Vision of Michael as he had been as a young man, his mind so open to me, his heart ready to receive me. Hard to think of this, even now, but Marius waited patiently on my words.

"Finally I left him. No use driving the man mad. It would be too obvious I was not growing older. And he had his life at the monastery. He grew old." Michael in his cell, unable to read, his eyes having failed him, instead reciting books back from memory. And the prayers, always the prayers.

I began to cry. I had thought I had worked through everything, that I had resolved this in my mind, but if that was so, why was I crying?

"I was there when he died," I whispered. "I came to him, like an angel, and I made him less afraid."

"Less afraid?" Marius' eyes met mine, inquiringly. "How?"

"I read to him, with my mind, sent to his soul with my silent voice some verses. Lucretius…"

Marius nodded. He knew at once which verses I meant - from  _De Rerum Natura_  - but I went on, quoting the Latin which I knew by heart.

_Death_  
Is nothing to us, has no relevance  
To our condition, seeing that the mind  
Is mortal.   
...So, when we cease to be, and body and soul,  
Which joined to make us one,have gone their way,  
Their separate ways, nothing at all can shake  
Our feelings, not if earth were mixed with sea  
Or sea with sky.

There was a nod and then a raised eyebrow. "Lovely and perfect, of course. But such a special monk to appreciate this poem without thinking it blasphemous."

A tiny laugh. "Yes, he was. He found peace in those words, even if they do not promise heaven, only oblivion. I said what I believed and was not about to offer a lie of peace and happiness with his Christian God. Although perhaps in the end he did find that. I will never know, will I?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right around the time I wrote this, I read De Rerum Natura, a very famous work of Roman philosophy It's pretty amazing. If you ever have the opportunity, give it a read.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Formosus goes out and finds a gig as a relationships counselor.

Four days have passed since my last addition to this document which, by default, has become a diary of sorts. As with all such records, I am beginning to fall behind in my description of events, but I believe I should be able to catch up if I force myself to, as they say nowadays, "stick to the point."

The night of David's arrival was uneventful once he left. Marius and I spoke of my old love, as I have described, and then I wrote out the night's conversations. Afterward I curled up on Marius' bed and read Lucretius. Marius had other ideas for our nighttime entertainment, however, and before long we were engaged in lovers' games… to which I was not adverse. As I have said, I am not a slut, but give what is asked for as it suits me.

The following night we did not see David, or for that matter, Lestat or Louis. Armand returned with Benji and Sybelle; this was really the only thing that "happened" all night. Benji brought back some wonderful music for me, Middle Eastern pop music, and we danced under the stars, each trying to outdo the other, switching the music and finally galloping through a dozen different genres, changing our styles to suit. At one point I attempted to demonstrate some moves I saw at a ballet performance last week but ended up replicating a dance I once saw in Constantinople at a festival…. twelve centuries ago.

At any rate, that night was enjoyable but, as I said, uneventful.

It was the next night that things began to "move." I left the house to feed about an hour after rising. For the first time in a long time, I was actually thirsting. Marius had noticed enough to show some concern. I was wasting away, he told me. I laughed, telling him that if he only knew how I looked two years ago, after a millennium underground, he would know I was actually doing well. With that and kiss, I went out.

I walked for a few miles, not so much hunting at first, simply roaming the city. In deference to my accident, I am wary of any tanker trucks or other dangers, but in general I am very comfortable. The fragrant gardens, the narrow streets, the heavy air - it feels right to me. At last I found a victim, another dying drug addict, my usual choice. Afterward I continued my wandering.

Finally, by what seemed like pure chance, I found myself in the central city near a lovely coffeehouse with low lights and a rather attractive crowd. And there, sitting at a table on the sidewalk, sat David. Thinking back on this, I realize that perhaps my arrival at that particular spot was no accident; perhaps I had been drawn by a subconscious feeling or perhaps David had drawn me in.

David did not see me at first, and so, veiling my thoughts, I took the opportunity to examine him. Our first meeting had been one of talking, not appraisal. Now, sitting there alone, he was ready to be looked at. A fine face, lovely hands. I looked at his eyes. Sad. I could not read his thoughts, understand, as his mind was locked, but his eyes I read easily.

As I approached at last, I saw he was reading from a book. He looked up.

"Oh, forgive me, Formosus," he said, obviously surprised. "I was… absorbed." He closed the book and pushed it away, meaning to get on with the conversation.

I looked down at the book and saw that it was a volume of my poems, a fine older edition. Pulling up a chair, I took a seat at the small table and reaching out, pulled the book across and into my lap. Opening it, I was surprised to see it was a Latin version.

"Latin was required in my schooling," David remarked, "but I had never read these particular poems." I had looked up from the book and he met my eyes. "Although now that I have…and now that my vampire gifts allow me to understand the words so much more clearly… perhaps I can understand why."

"Why?" I asked. Perhaps by talking I could make him less sad, I thought, or at least find out what the trouble was.

"Oh, its themes. Love, passionate romance… do not play well with teenage boys." There was humor in his voice. Perhaps he was indeed cheering up.

"Maybe so… but when  _I_  was a teenage boy,  _I_ was writing those poems."

David actually smiled. "So you were. A very mature lad, you were."

"David," I said, trying to use the lightness of the moment, "I appreciate your humor. I am glad you are comfortable with me. I had thought perhaps I had upset you the other night."

He looked at me perplexed. "Upset me? No, it is not  _you_  who have upset me."

I reached out and caught his hand, which he had been using to take back the book. He was obviously trying to fidget his way out of the issue at hand.

"David." He froze and so I went on. "What is wrong?"

I saw the change immediately. The tide had turned, thanks to my usual magic. He was going to talk. My hand was still on his as he began. "When Lestat went into his… coma, yes, let me call it that… I stayed in New Orleans, like everyone else. I lived in the convent and watched over him. I went out from time to time, course -"

"To invite Pandora to write her memoirs, for example…"

"Yes, exactly. Then finally Armand reappeared. He was not dead. He told me his story. And then Marius made fledglings of Armand's dear children. Finally… Lestat arose." He put his other hand on top of mine before resuming. "He arose and he was changed but it was marvelous. To see my maker alive again. To hear his voice. It was a sweet time. But then I realized something."

"And what was that, David?" I asked.

"I realized that they… Louis and Lestat… didn't need me. Before, I had found it possible to exist with them, not to feel jealous, but after waking, Lestat was fragile and Louis… seemed better able to care for him. Louis is more fully attuned to dealing with suffering. Finally I went away rather than deal with it anymore. Now, on my return, I reach out to Lestat, but he does not grasp my hand."

As he finished speaking, David suddenly looked down at his hands, holding mine. Then he looked up. Something had dawned on him.

"Are you," he asked slowly, "attracted to me?"

I nodded. How could I not be?

"I thought as much. Lestat and Louis told me last night how you have been… interacting with the coven, with them. They say you have gifts, that you draw people out of themselves." He paused and indicated the hands with his eyes. "Is that what you are trying to do now?"

I shook my head, smiling. "David, I am trying to make you happy. That is my general aim in life… making people happy."

"Well, you can give up with me. I am not going to be happy. Not tonight." He frowned. "No, not when I see what you have done to Louis and Lestat. How you have made them even closer, how you have freed their hearts, how you have…" His voice trailed off as he drew his hands away and looked down, away from me.

" _Do not do this!_ " I whispered to him harshly. "Do not fall into this trap. Do not be jealous, do not begrudge others their happiness. Do not bemoan your loneliness. You know what you must do."

He looked up at me. Such a somber look. You could hardly tell we had begun our conversation laughing.

"What do you mean? What should I do?" His voice was weary and resigned.

_David, you need to go to them. Do not quibble over words or your fears or anything else. Only go to them. You love Lestat and I_ know _he loves you. Love is not so common; do not avoid it, pursue it! Go to them and open your heart. They will open theirs. You will step outside this trap you have created for yourself. Go to them._

"I see. Are you a certified relationship counselor?" He rose from his chair and looked at me seriously. "I thought you were only a poet." He paused. "You're right, of course. . I will go and resolve this. And if anything goes wrong, I have you to blame, correct?"

I nodded. "Yes, of course, and then you will come to me and I will tell you to go back and try again."

He leaned forward, kissed my forehead, and whispered, "Of course you will." Then he was off, book in hand, into the night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes life presents hard choices. In this instance, Formosus has to make one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I establish that ancient teenage vampires do not f*ck very young child vampires. Or: Suck it up, Benji :)

Afterward I spent some time in the city on my own. I went and bought myself a few books at a bookstore I adore, as usual leaving money at the cash register, closed hours earlier. Later I passed a shop selling incense and Asian imports. The smell was lovely and when I slowed to look in the window, I noticed there was someone inside, working late. When they let me in (to do a favor for a lovely young man) I came face to face with a sari from India, red and green with a pattern of gold thread at the edges, golden leaves scattered across the middle. I gave the store owner all the money I had. Precious cloth, something I could wear and know how to wear, this robe. I left a happy man, returning to my home with Marius.

Strangely, when I arrived, Marius was gone. So was Armand. And Sybelle. I thought everyone was gone in fact but then suddenly I sensed that, no, Benji was downstairs reading. I went to my room first of all and put on my new sari. I wrapped it in an old fashion, pinning it with gold clips. Marius would be so pleased. I was standing in the mirror admiring myself when Benji appeared at the door.

Hello, Formosus, he said in his silent voice. I turned and looked at him. A strange expression. More than the usual cockiness, that raised eyebrow, that set to his mouth. It was a look of desperation. There was something urgent he needed to know.

"Come in, Benji," I said, motioning with my hand towards the couch by my bed, loving the feel of the robe against my arm.

He swung onto the couch. He sat there, hands on his knees, still with that look on his face, pleading with me, silently.

I took a seat next to him, trying to work my magic, my ability to soothe. I met his eyes steadily. "What is it, Benji?" I asked softly. "You want something, you want to ask something."

"We are alone," he said in a low voice. He reached out suddenly and clasped my arm at the shoulder. "No one is here. I want to ask... I want to say..."

"What is it?" I asked, again trying to be gentle, to let him reach the point himself.

"I want you." With that his hand on my shoulder pulled me towards him. His other arm came around my shoulder to wrap about my back, at least partway. I am not a large man, but he has the form of a child, and I noticed it then more than ever.

Hot tears on my shoulder. Blood tears. He was weeping and into the side of my face, into my hair, he said, "Oh, Formosus, I have wanted you, wanted you... And you have ignored me." Another sob. "You have ignored me. You have been with the others, always the others, and you do not even attempt..." His words were lost in his cries.

As I held him with my arms, my mind was reeling. I had guessed some of these feelings on other occasions - even the last time we danced - but how could they have grown so strong without my having noticed? He was often out of town, but I should have noticed. And why was it tonight that he finally was speaking to me?

These questions vanished suddenly, however. Vulnerable as he was, I knew what I would have to tell him. I had decided months before and I was not about to change my mind. After a minute or so, I very slowly, very gently pushed him away. I held his hand in mine and I spoke.

"Benji, I know this." His eyes widened. "I know you have desired me. I am not unaware. I will also confess that I desire you. But," I continued, the very word "but" striking him like a blow, "I have considered it, and I do not feel it is right." I had said it. I told myself I believed these words although in truth I knew I would have to convince even myself. This moment required sacrifice.

Meanwhile Benji was absolutely shocked. I saw the anger, the bewilderment building. I put up my hand. "No, do not be angry. Let me explain." I withdrew my other hand. Time to be the teacher, to explain the way of the world. "Here is the problem. When you were brought into this life, when Marius made you as a gift for Armand, you were but 12 years old. You have only existed a few more years than that. You have less than 20 years on this earth. You are a child. Even if your mind has grown, you remain a child. Do you understand that I am 100 times your age?"

Anger, I could feel it. "Yes, I understand that," he said bitterly. "But we are vampires. How could that possibly matter? And the others - Lestat and Louis - are also children to you, are they not?"

I shook my head. "No, Benji, they are not. They lived in the world as men. They have lived several lifetimes through. You are so young - and I mean in every way."

For a moment or two there was silence, but I knew what he would say. The power of his anger hit me in the chest.

"You are a hypocrite!" he cried. Tears on his cheeks again. "How often have I heard, have we all heard, have you told Marius, of your days as a youth? You were less than 20 when you did this! You were probably less than 12! You who served your master and pleased him. You, all of 17 the day of your making. You who had the house of pleasure in Constantinople. Did you have age limits for your customers, I wonder?"

He was sounding bitter. I did not enjoy it. No, this could not stand. He had to be convinced. It was my responsibility to leave him alone, at least for a few years. I feared the repercussions to much.

I frowned. "Benji, that is different," I said, quite but firm.

He was about to interrupt me when I slammed a thought to his mind.  _No, Benji, believe me, that is different. I was a mortal in those days. That was long ago. And at the bordello, do you think young men came to me? No, that was not how it was, my dear boy, that was not how it was._

I shook my head, then grasped his hands in my own. _Benji, this can wait. This love, being together... it can wait. It must. I want to be sure you can handle me, that you can handle the feelings that come along with being with me, with sharing me. For you cannot have me for yourself. In a few years, you may be ready, but now I fear you are too young and if I yield, something will go wrong. I will wait._

Total silence. And then from him, the thought and emotion came clear. He was unhappy but... he understood.  _I respect your decision_ , he said slowly, mind to mind.

I kissed him on the lips as I drew him into my arms. I rose with him and turned to the door. There, to my shock, stood Marius and Armand. Obviously they had been watching for some time. Benji was facing away from the door and could not have seen them yet; I signaled to them with my eyes to disappear, which they did. 

* * *

I came up into the garden about 20 minutes later. Benji had gone out with Sybelle. I was still wearing my new sari and enjoying it very much. The perfect garment. I went to the garden and took a seat by one of the fountains, on a marble bench by a flowering bush. I am sure I looked like a the ideals of those neoclassical paintings I've seen in art museums, the young god in the garden moonlight. And so Marius found me.

" _Obstupefacis me_ ," he said to me. Lovely Latin. He reached out and stroked my cheek with his hand. " _Obstupefacis_."

"What do you mean, I amaze you?" I asked.

"What you did tonight. With Benji." He took a seat on the bench besides me. "That must have been difficult."

"It was," I said. "Believe me, it was a stretch on my morals, you understand. I have a hard time convincing my that this is the right thing. How can I deny him when I deny no one? How can I say he is too young when I, when I...?"

"No, you are doing the right this," he assured me. A warm hand on my shoulder. "There will always be later. But now you are not comfortable. He is young."

I sighed. "Yes, that's true. And knowing me, the desire will still be there. I am hopeless, Marius, terribly hopeless."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That whole thing was Armand making a child vampire... WTF. Not to say I didn't enjoy the book The Vampire Armand, but really? REALLY? And you know that vamp kid would be the most annoying character in a movie adaptation...


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self-denial has its own reward, as Formosus discovers.

Next it was Armand's turn. Marius left and there he was, standing patiently, only a few feet from me, having appeared out of nowhere. There was a pause, as both of us waited until we were sure Marius had gone back inside the house.

The moonlight and shadows of the oaks played on Armand's face as he spoke. "Thank you, Formosus, for what you have done. Or should I say, for what you  _haven't_  done."

"I was only trying to do what's best," I replied. "And not only for Benji, but for all of us."

"You are so generous," Armand offered as he seated himself on the stone bench next to me. He was speaking in Italian to me and his voiced was seducing me as surely as his eyes. "It would have been so easy for you to get what you want... and you  _did_  want, didn't you?"

"Yes," I answered quietly, but quite matter-of-factly. "I can't seem to help myself where this... coven... is concerned."

"Except for Pandora and Sybelle..." said Armand. I started to nod when he went on, "...and David."

David. I still had not heard back from him since two nights before. And desiring David? Yes, of course I did, I had only forgotten for a moment.

Of course Armand caught all my thoughts. I let him do this. To tell the truth, my mind is open most of the time. I have few secrets.

Armand smiled. "Do you know where David is?"

"Off reconciling with Lestat, I'd imagine." I looked down, away from Armand. I had done two good deeds in short succession, and now I realized I was craving an opportunity to be selfish.

Armand, who had waited during this pause, looked puzzled. Finally he asked, "Reconciling? There was an argument?"

I explained to him about my meeting at the cafe. I was nearly at the last bit of the story when to my surprise, Armand grabbed me by the shoulders and clasped me to his chest. I felt the kisses on my neck and then, as he released me, a hand running through my hair.

This was unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. He had read my mind and, as it were, answered my invitation.  _What have I done to deserve this?_

Instead of answering me, Armand picked me up roughly and set me down on the lush grass. His own body fell on mine, embracing me, engulfing me. I felt myself on fire, felt the blood sweat. Oh, to be taken this way, when I had hardly even asked! What a sweet reward.

_You have done nothing, and that is why you deserve this._  He had my shirt in his hands and then it was gone, tossed onto the flowering bush. In moments the rest of my clothing lay on the grass beside us. I went to take Armand's clothing but he stopped my hand.  _No, precious, this is for you._  Was this really happening? I tried to protest, thinking perhaps this was a test, but again, Armand restrained me.  _You will enjoy this._

He was right. I did enjoy it. And now, readers, fade to black, at least for a moment. Allow me some privacy. After all, I think you can imagine the rest.

* * *

Suffice it to say, my encounter with Armand that night was an unexpected surprise. In fact it ate up most of the rest of that evening. By the time we were through with one another, having cleaned off at last in a fountain, it was but an hour before dawn.

Finally I realized we needed to get dressed and go back to the house... only our clothes were not in any condition to cover us. Armand suggested we simply return naked but I told him I thought that would be in poor taste considering that I sensed Benji had returned. Instead, I summoned Marius with one of the more mundane thoughts I have ever delivered to him:  _Marius, could you please bring out some clothes?_


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conclusion. Formosus is popular as ever but he bids his fandom goodbye. This is the final act.

The next evening the phone rang. I actually jumped in my chair, the sound startled me so. Although I was next to the machine at the time, I did not even look at it. Phone were simply not my responsibility.

It rang once, twice, three times, four times. Finally Benji appeared at the entrance to the living room and dashed to pick it up.

"Hello?" He gave me a sharp look.  _Why can't you ever answer the phone?_  "Oh, hello, David!" He paused for David's response. "Formosus? Yes, he's right here." Benji handed me the phone with a scowl.

Awkwardly, I put the device to my ear. "David?"

"Yes. Formosus?" he asked.

I nodded, then realized my mistake. "Yes. Are you really calling for me?"

"Yes." There was a pause and in the background I heard others talking. An unmistakable peal of laughter. It had to be Lestat. "Forgive me, but the others are distracting me."

"It's fine, David. So why the call?" I asked, deliberately trying to sound a tad modern.

"I called because -" and again he stopped, this time for something that sounded like Louis crying, " _Non! Non! Non_!" before another peal of laughter rang out. "Oh, heavens, let me get it out. I am calling to invite you over. To thank you actually. You were right. Everything is delightful here."

"Are you sure I wouldn't be interrupting anything?" I asked. "I mean, it sounds like you're having a great time."

"We are. And we would like you to join us." More laughter. "See you soon." The phone call ended.

I handed the phone back to Benji. "You're going over... to see David?"

"To see all of them actually," I replied. I reached out and clasped his arm by the wrist. "Please, Benji, don't take this personally. I simply... can't do anything with you. Not now anyway." He nodded and I was relieved to see that he actually was accepting what I said.

* * *

After that I went into the bath and dressed myself. I found Marius in his bedroom and let him know where I was headed.

"Planning on staging an orgy, are you?" he asked playfully, reaching out with the boldness of a child to tweak my nipples.

"I'm not sure about that," I replied coyly.

"No, you're sure." Absolutely no jealousy there, he was simply playing with me.

I nodded. "It is a likely thing. After all, as I recently heard said - although I believe this is  _cliché_ , as they call it - 'It's a tough job, but somebody's gotta do it.'"

Marius laughed and so I think that I may have finally mastered the art of modern English language jokes. Full of glee, I kissed Marius good bye and went on my way.

My evening at Rue Royale was predictable. Louis received me at the door and there were embraces all around. We sat down and had a friendly chat. David explained how my advice had helped him to finally reach out to Lestat. Now they were all in harmony. No idea exactly why they hadn't been before, but my words to David had somehow made things right.

"Would you like a reward?" Lestat asked me finally. I was about to reply when the blond-haired devil, hardly to my surprise, interrupted me. "Doesn't matter," he said, "you're getting one anyway. We've decided."

How well they know me.

* * *

My readers, I hope you too now know me well, from the inside out. No more going on about my day-to-day life. I think you get the idea.

I also hope you agree with my earlier assertion - that despite the current vogue for labeling, I am not a slut. This is one of the main points I want to get across, for it is a key tenet of my philosophy, such as it is. I receive an ample share of pleasure with an astonishingly beautiful group of immortal lovers, but what, and I ask this sincerely, what else is life for? Everyone needs a purpose in life and not only have I found it, but I get to pursue it each and every day! I sing, I dance, I travel, I read, I take the blood, I make love. This is life!

I am blessed, for I know that I am the only one who seems able to do this, to live so freely in this world. Perhaps it is something I was born with. Perhaps it was all the years I spent alone with no companions and then finally trapped under the ground. Whatever the reason, I am grateful for what I have now and I pray I will remain in the bosom of this great family, in the arms of my beloved Marius, for the rest of eternity.

**_The End_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you've gotten through this, what did you think of this epic story of an ancient vampire twink?

**Author's Note:**

> While this story works better than Part 2-4, it's still pretty embarrassing to me these many years. Oh, well, maybe somebody out there likes this piece of ancient fan fic. If so, please tell me, because I'm curious.


End file.
